


Hello Officer

by Alicethrutheburrows



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Beginnings, Complete, Curse words are used here, Dean Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Dean Winchester Has a Sexuality Crisis, Dean is a repo man, Dean works for Bobby, Fast cars and faster tongues, Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Meet-Cute, Modern AU, Nervous Dean, Not all cops are dicks, Police Officer Castiel (Supernatural), Sassy Cas, Short & Sweet, Young Dean Winchester, Young!Dean, officer!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:37:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alicethrutheburrows/pseuds/Alicethrutheburrows
Summary: Being pulled over while in the middle of repoing one of the most corrupt/fearsome business owners in the state car was not how Dean intended on spending his evening or questioning his sexuality because of the ridiculously gorgeous officer who pulled him over. Can Dean get out of this mess with his heart and without a night in jail?
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 20
Kudos: 72





	Hello Officer

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! I just simply wanted to write this meet-cute that popped into my head. I hope you enjoy this short story of Dean being his wonderful bisexual disaster self. Without further ado, welcome down my rabbit hole. XOXO, Alice

### 

Red and Blue Baby

Red and blue flashing lights accompanied by the sound of a Charger engine sucking in air like a drowning man struggling for breath appeared in Dean’s rearview mirror. 

Fuck. He was so utterly fucked. Cursing under his breath, he knew he had two options: pull over or try to shake the guy; he was in a sunshine yellow Lamborghini Aventador, he could probably outrun the cops but if he didn’t he could be facing charges of reckless endangerment, invading police, and any other bullshit charge they could slap on a twenty-year-old kid.

Dean eased on the brakes watching the lights and his possible life sentence grow nearer. Of fucking course, the ** I’m-an-overly-rich-asshole-yellow** would catch the eyes of the police; the yellow screamed look at me. 

Dean could already picture Bobby’s disappointed face in his mind. Bobby, his boss/owner/father figure, ran Singer Auto and Repair a smorgasbord business that included towing, auto repair, a salvage yard, and the occasional dabble in car repossession which is how Dean ended up in Zachariah Adler’s Lamborghini. Damn, he was an idiot for taking this job. Of all the stupid ideas, this one took the cake and Dean didn’t even like cake. Bobby even had explicitly told him the request was a suicide mission, that no amount of money would be worth repoing the asshole’s Lambo even though he deserved it.

Yet, when the dealership had called saying Mr. Adler was six months behind on his payments and offered an amount Dean couldn’t make in a year to have the car retrieved, he just couldn’t say no. Especially not when he had a younger sixteen-year-old sasquatch of a brother to clothe and feed. The beanstalk grew out of clothes faster than Dean could blink. 

Looking back now while pulling off the road onto the shoulder, he should have most definitely said no. He should have known with the kind of money Mr. Adler supposedly had; the creep would have a few cronies on the police force. Resting his forehead on the steering wheel, the situation started to sink in. It’s not like he stole the car, the car technically was owned by the dealership and he had the proper legal paperwork for the repo. Staying calm, Dean knew would be his best move. _Play it cool Dean_, he chanted in his head,_ Play it cool_. 

A light rap on the glass had Dean shrieking like a high school girl in an 80’s slasher film about to be stabbed. Trying to salvage the remnants of his pride, Dean coughed while rolling down the window to greet the officer. Okay, he could do this, all he had to do was not panic. 

With a click, a harsh blinding light streamed onto Dean’s face. All rational thought fled his brain and words poured out of Dean’s mouth like a broken water pipe, “Officer this is not what it looks like – Look I have a brother,” his anxiety vice gripped him like a snake strangling its latest victim, “I cannot go to jail—fuck—I’m sorry—shit—I have legal right to possess this car—I..I..”

“Can you take a deep breath for me?” A deep, rough bordering straight gravel asked. The light moved from Dean’s face as he took a shaky inhale and exhaled slowly. Letting his eyes adjust from being almost blinded, Dean blinked up at the officer. Dean felt his soul partially leave his body while he drank in the sight of his captor. Questioning his sexuality was not on his agenda for tonight, well neither was getting pulled over while pulling off this repo, his brain argued. 

Staring at some movie star blue eyes and a stubbly chiseled jaw that would make Superman jealous, all the blood once circling Dean’s head started rushing south. White knuckling the leather steering wheel now would be the worst possible time for a boner. But damn—Dean squinted at the name embroidered into the practically painted on shirt—Officer Novak made that uniform look like the centerfold in a playgirl magazine. 

Articulating sentences seemed impossible, leaving Dean opening his mouth, closing his mouth, opening his mouth to start again, only to close it once more when nothing came out. Officer Novak tilted his head and squinted his eyes in a way Dean could only assume the guy was trying to unravel why Dean was such a blubbering bucket of nerves. 

“Do you know why I pulled you over?” 

“No?” Dean slowly stated, sure he had been pulled over before but never by a male model or driving a car owned by the most fearsome and corrupt business owner in the state. 

Officer Novak arched an eyebrow at him causing Dean to shift in his seat and a flush to rise in his cheeks under the scrutiny. “License and registration please.” The commanding tone had Dean shuffling for his wallet to pull out his driver’s license in order to comply with the officer’s wishes. 

“Do you want to tell me—” the officer paused to read Dean’s license, “Dean, why were you going 70 in a 45?” 

“Speeding?” Dean said, breathless. He had gotten so lost in the euphoria of successfully lifting the car from Adler’s estate that he let the speed limit slip his mind. A bubble of nervous laughter erupted from Dean’s chest. 

A frown found its way on to the officer’s face, “Dean the excessive amount of speeding you were doing is a considerable offense and no laughing matter and—” The policeman stepped back shining his flashing light along the body of the car, “There’s only one car like this in town and it belongs to Mr. Adler.”

“I’m,” Dean started his tongue feeling like a lead paperweight and then that damn light was back in his face, “Dude, could you quit blinding me with that thing? Seriously.”

The light lowered from his face and Dean swore he heard a softly muttered apology. Taking another shaky breath, Dean reached over to the passenger seat to snag the repo paperwork. Being sassy to an officer of the law was a sure-fire way to end up handcuffed and in the back of the police car—though once the image presented itself Dean didn’t think he would mind being shoved up against the car and manhandled into some shiny metal cuffs and—

Shoving the papers into the officer’s hands, Dean stomped down his traitorous thoughts focusing on the situation at hand instead. “This car was Mr. Adler’s but he’s six months behind on his payments, so the car now belongs to the dealership. I’m just returning this beauty to her rightful owner, officer.”

Dean’s first priority after whatever the hell was going to happen here was getting his imagination in check; he swore he caught a spark of fire in the officer’s eyes at Dean’s cheekiness. Blue met green in a stare that lasted a little longer than most people considered comfortable before Officer Novak stepped back to read over the documents Dean provided. While the officer scanned, Dean admired the strength of the man’s buttons; he admired the way those little clear rounds held together when the fabric stretched across a thick, broad chest. Just as Dean began to worship the officer’s bulging arms, the man turned back towards the car. 

Silently, the officer handed Dean back the documents and his driver’s license. “Dean while you are in legal possession of this car, it doesn’t explain why you were going 70 in a 45,” Officer Novak leaned down resting his foreman on the length of the driver’s window, his gravelly voice bleeding authority, “You were going 25 over the speed limit which is not only reckless but stupid on these hills. Care to defend yourself, Dean?”

Honestly, Dean didn’t even notice how fast he had been pushing the car. Each light press on the gas pedal sent the car soaring with the engine begging to be opened up, begging to roar like it had been designed to do. Some cars were not just machines, but true pieces of art built for conquering pavement at unfathomable speeds. 

“I..I...I wanted to hear the V12 whine,” Dean answered, ducking his head. “This thing is an orgasm on wheels, man I know I was going too fast—I swear I lightly tapped on the gas and then I’m flying rounding the corner doing 70 when I thought I was going 30.”

The officer hummed at Dean’s answer scanning his face for any hint of a lie, “The Italians have impeccable taste when it comes to building cars, though I’m more a fan of American classics.”

Dean let out a breathless, “Yeah?” 

“Something about the rumble of a big block just feels right,”

Damn, dude was a man after Dean’s own heart. He wondered if the officer would appreciate his Baby, a restored ’67 Chevy Impala in sleek black, the way he did. A picture of the officer in street clothes riding shotgun humming along to some Zeppelin slid into Dean’s mind—what a pretty picture indeed. 

“You’re lucky Dean,” Officer Novak said, snapping Dean from his daydreams, “Mr. Adler has quite a few ‘friends’ on the police force and if anyone of them would have pulled you over you be in considerable trouble.”

“Figures, an ass like that would have a few cronies. Hopefully, he’s paying them cause he ain’t paying his other bills,”

Officer Novak’s gummy smile could make a holy saint sin. “Zachariah is a man who believes he is a man above the law, funny to see he is just another broke assbutt parading around like a rich man.” The officer stepped away from the car fishing in the front pocket of his uniform before presenting Dean with a business card. “I’m going to let you go with a warning.”

Dean accepted the card with a nervous hand, his mouth betraying him, “Why?” An arched eyebrow at his question left Dean backpedaling, “I mean—thank you?”

This time a smirk graced the officer’s slightly chapped lips, “I want you to follow me.”

“To the police station?” Dean asked, sounding a little defeated. Didn’t the guy just say he was letting him off with a warning?

“No,” the ass had the audacity to chuckle, “To the dealership. Isn’t that where you are taking this beauty?”

Dean nodded like an aggressive bobblehead. 

“Okay then,” Officer Novak said, patting the window seal with a sheepish smile. “Let’s hear that V12 whine.”

Dean peered down at the business card while the officer walked back to his Charger. Red and blue flashing lights filled his rear-view mirror again only this time instead of dread they filled him with excitement. The Charger flew past Dean, speed limit be damned. Throwing the Aventador into drive and punching the gas, Dean pulled back onto the road to give chase. 

Office Castiel Novak, the business card read. Castiel, what an odd name; it seemed fitting though for the odd policeman. Castiel seemed nothing like the usual asshole police officers Dean was used to dealing with.

In fact, Castiel seemed like an officer Dean could get behind—or under, his mind supplied.

**Author's Note:**

> Want more? Leave a comment below and let me know! I love hearing from you. Love, Alice


End file.
